


come here

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Depression, M/M, happy ending because i'm a hopeful sucker, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7212649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the monster comes for Taehyung, Namjoon will tighten his fists and fight it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come here

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a really long few days. can anyone tell?

“Can we just not talk about this anymore,” Taehyung is saying as his eyes dart left and right and anywhere except Namjoon's face. “Please, I don't want to talk about this.” His shoulders are curled in, his fingers fisted up in the sleeves of the sweater he's wearing (Namjoons, too broad in the shoulder and much too long) and his legs are rod-straight.

Namjoon knows they should talk about it, because Taehyung needs help. He knows they should talk about it because Taehyung is out of control, because he's not himself, because he's turning to old self-medication that leaves him with busted up lips and knuckles, hangovers and little lines of red running across the insides of his arms. Taehyung's cheeks are dull and his voice is shaking.

“Come here,” Namjoon says, and Taehyung stays where he is. “Taehyung.” He doesn't reach out but he waits, he waits and Taehyung moves into his range, doesn't flinch away when Namjoon drags him into a tight hug: one arm around his shoulders, the other around his waist, so tight that it forces Taehyung's hands away from his own elbows to fist them in Namjoon's shirt, instead.

Namjoon can smell disinfectant and toothpaste. He knows if he goes into the bathroom, it will be suspiciously clean. He can't believe he didn't notice earlier. He hates himself for not noticing earlier. He sways their bodies back and forth, lulls Taehyung's pounding heart into a rhythm that is less like panic. Namjoon kisses his hair and his eyebrow, the corner of his eye and the bridge of his nose and Taehyung squeezes his eyes closed and tries to keep his head down.

“It's okay,” Namjoon says. “To not be okay. But I don't know unless you tell me.” That's not necessarily true. Namjoon is usually so good at reading the signs of an incoming episode; Taehyung becomes withdrawn and listless, he stays in bed longer even when he gets into bed earlier. He has no interest in his games or his books or his friends. Namjoon's just been so busy with work that he hadn't been able to stop and think about it until Taehyung snapped at him earlier this morning, for walking into the bathroom while he was showering. Something he does every day.

“I'm _sorry,_ ” Taehyung almost sobs and Namjoon wonders what it's like to never feel okay. He wonders what it's like to know there's a monster lurking in the chemicals of your brain that's just waiting to pounce onto you, to rip you to pieces as it pulls you away from the people who love you, the people who don't deserve to have that monster turned onto them when it crawls into your skin and wears you like a suit. He wonders what it's like to be empty, to feel hollow, when the monster leaves. Taehyung has told him so many times, given him eloquent words to describe the feelings but Namjoon doesn't, can't, understand, because he's never lived it. He knows that.

Taehyung has been like this since they were kids. In middle school he was prone to fits of violence between daydreams, he couldn't focus and when he could it was so difficult to keep his concentration, even if he was interested in what they were talking about. When he was diagnosed at thirteen he'd refused to take his medication. He didn't _want_ to take it, how could he, what would it do to him? To his creativity, to his lust for life when he wanted to live it?

He refused to take it all through the first three years of high school, until he crashed his car into a tree going seventy miles an hour at the beginning of senior year and when Namjoon came to visit him in the hospital Taehyung admitted that he'd been hoping, if he hit the tree hard enough, he'd just die.

He hadn't thought to take his seatbelt off. It saved his life.

Namjoon had never seen the scars before that day in the hospital. Never seen the straight, dark lines on the insides of Taehyung's biceps or the tops of his thighs. They were mostly faded now, but sometimes Taehyung traced them over with an exacto knife, cutting open old wounds in an effort to... Namjoon didn't know what. He took his medication now, but it only helped, it wasn't a cure. There was no _cure._

Only management.

It's a challenge to love Taehyung on his best days but Namjoon has never doubted for a second that he does. He's never doubted that Taehyung, for all of his erratic behavior and whimsical interests, loves him too. He works so hard to maintain what they have. Love is work, Namjoon knows, and both of them work. Namjoon with patience, and Taehyung with passion, together they built what they have and live inside of it. Namjoon hates himself for not seeing the signs But Taehyung is rubbing his face into Namjoon's shirt and Namjoon kisses his hair, sways him back and forth.

“It's gonna be okay,” he promises, because it will be. Taehyung has made it through so much, and a few dark days won't hold him back forever. Not with Namjoon there to talk him through it, walk beside him, reminding him that home is where they are, together.

“I know,” Taehyung whispers. Namjoon kisses his head and Taehyung sniffles grossly, swallows hard. “I want a shower,” he proclaims, in as strong a voice as he can probably muster. Namjoon smiles and nods, lets his cheek rest in Taehyung's dark hair.

“How about a bath,” he negotiates, pulling back to look down. “What do you think of that. We've got those bath bombs Yoongi and Jimin got us.” Taehyung considers this for a moment and nods and Namjoon kisses his forehead. “Okay. Why don't you go clean up the kitchen, okay. I'll get the bath running.”

Taehyung nods, and Namjoon lets him go. The kitchen is a mess because Taehyung yanked their dishrack to the floor, shattering glass and plates all over the tile. That was when Namjoon cornered him in the hallway when he tried to run, that was when Namjoon called him out and Taehyung tried to say he was fine, but Namjoon didn't believe him.

Namjoon hears the glass being swept up. He hears the vacuum running. The water is hot under his hand as Taehyung comes in with clean fingers and no shoes. “I'll get new plates,” he says, and Namjoon laughs.

“We need them anyway, honestly. Remember Seokjin last time he came over.”

“ _Why are there fork marks on your plates,_ yeah, I remember.”

“He'll be so impressed.”

Namjoon watches Taehyung hesitate to get undressed. He gets up to pull his own clothes off, and it's the encouragement Taehyung needs. They've both grown a bit complacent since college, their stomachs and thighs softer than they used to be. Namjoon reaches out to grab Taehyung's hip and kisses his cheek while thumbing the soft skin. Taehyung blushes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Pick one,” he motions to the little basket on the rack above the toilet. It doesn't surprise him when Taehyung pulls up the black one, the one with gold glitter in it. He drops it into the water and giggles with delight as the color explodes, the water dark and shimmering.

“Look,” he says. “It's like your hair.”

Namjoon kisses Taehyung's shoulder and nudges him towards the tub. “Get in, flatterer,” he says, and Taehyung does just that: climbs into the tub and holds onto the sides with his knees at his chest, looking expectantly up at Namjoon. He gets in behind him, and smiles when Taehyung turns to rest on his chest, between his legs. It's hard to tell that just half an hour ago, Taehyung had been screaming, had been breaking glass and tearing at his hair. The tears on his cheeks have dried, and his heart rate has slowed but Namjoon drapes his arms over his back and kisses his face until Taehyung sighs and wiggles closer, closing the glass doors around the tub to keep the steam in.

“I love you,” Namjoon says, and Taehyung swallows hard. “Even when it's hard. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Taehyung whispers. “I'm sorry. That it's hard.” Namjoon doesn't think it's harder than any other relationship, probably. Only instead of having arguments between the two of them, it's Namjoon witnessing the arguments between Taehyung and the monster, and he wouldn't dream of leaving him alone to fight those battles.

“You don't need to apologize,” Namjoon says. “I'm not mad at you. You didn't do anything wrong. But you should tell me when it gets hard, Taehyung. I want to help you.”

“It's so ugly,” Taehyung whispers, his fingers peeking out of the water to rest on Namjoon's chest. “I hate it. It's ugly and awful and I hate it so much.”

“So do I,” Namjoon says, because it's true. He hates this thing that terrorizes his lover. He hates this darkness that lurks in his every step, waiting to rip him back into helplessness and hopelessness. He hates this monster that skins Taehyung but he has no intention of leaving Taehyung to it's devices. Namjoon will stand with the torch, will keep watch. It's a part of Taehyung, that monster, but it doesn't have to be tearing him to shreds. There are ways to keep it at bay as much as they can. “But I love you.”

“I know,” Taehyung says.

“Good,” Namjoon replies, breathing in, breathing out, feeling Taehyung do the same. It's the first step back from the dark, breathing in tandem with their fingers laced in the bathwater, with Taehyung's nose in Namjoon's throat and Namjoon's voice singing quiet melodies of songs they sing together, waiting for Taehyung to join him.

When the monster comes for Taehyung, Namjoon will tighten his fists and fight it. Taehyung might fall at it's feet, but he will never be swallowed. Not while Namjoon is there to raise the light, and hold out his hand. _Come here,_ he'll always say. And Taehyung, no matter how long it takes, no matter how afraid he is, will always reach back, and go.

 


End file.
